The Road Outside My House
by maplexsyrup
Summary: ...is paved with good intentions. "You hate yourself too, because despite all of the pain you've caused the girl you were supposed to love, somehow you don't regret what you did." Massie/Cam/Nikki. Oneshot.


**A/N: **Bah. The formatting gets kind of messed up on my computer. Thanks to Amy for editing.

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**The Road Outside My House (Is Paved With Good Intentions)**

-**c**-

She walks down the hallway confidently, surrounded by her friends. To the untrained eye, she looks fine, like the self-assured, sanguine "queen bee" they know and love. Only you, who have spent more time with her in the past almost-ten months than anyone else could possibly notice that something's up. That devious spark in her eye doesn't shine as brightly, and her laugh--that joyous, infectious laugh that all the girls try to emulate--seems forced. She's not the same bright, shiny Massie that she was a little while ago, although she does a damn good job of hiding it.

Something about this, her trying to be strong because part of what makes Massie _Massie_ is that she'd rather die than be thought of as weak, makes you sad.

Because she wouldn't be like this, a shadow of her old self, if it wasn't for you.

You hate yourself too, because despite all of the pain you've caused the girl you were supposed to love, somehow you don't regret what you did.

-**m**-

Derrick walks toward you, and you feel a surge of anger in your chest. If you weren't in the middle of a crowded hallway, you would have screamed at him. You always trace problems back to the very beginning, and in your opinion it all goes back to him. He was the one that set you two up. He should have known, somehow, what Cam was thinking--after all, it's his best friend. He should have warned you. _Someone_ should have warned you.

Caught up in your thoughts, you don't notice the discarded pencil until you step on it. Losing your balance in those precariously sky-high heels, you pitch forward. As you see the school hallway's ugly brown carpet rush towards your face, you feel a pair of strong arms catch you right before you hit the ground. Startled, you look up into a pair of mismatched eyes.

-**c**-

_"Don't talk to me, ever. Don't come up to me at school, don't say hi to me in the halls, don't send me 'hey what's up' texts or IMs. I never want to see your pathetic little face again."_

Her stern command from twelve days ago (yes, you've been keeping track) is fresh in your mind, but as she teeters on the soles of her expensive shoes, you decide to ignore it. She looks up into your eyes, and you can tell that even though you just saved her from falling ass over teakettle, she's pretty freaking angry.

A familiar glint of silver peeks out from under her plaid scarf. No. There's no way that she's still wearing the necklace, a gift from you on your six-month anniversary. But it's no illusion or trick of the light. The heart-shaped silver necklace hangs from her neck exactly as it did when you first fastened it almost four months ago, but for one difference: A jagged black groove runs down the center. It's a fact. You really did break her heart.

"Fishy, her face is up there. Stop staring," snipes Alicia, and the girls break out in laughter and saunter away, leaving you alone in the middle of the hallway. Kristen looks back and shoots you a death glare, and Dylan flips you off with a hand behind her back.

Yep, you're Public Enemy Number One.

-**m**-

He didn't even want to go to the party. That was the funny thing. He had wanted to stay at home and watch Borat on Video on Demand, but you begged and pleaded until he finally caved. It'll be fun, I promise. All of your friends are going.  
Turns out, you were right about that.

"Oh my God, I love this song!" Alicia shouted over the throbbing beat. As soon as the energetic hio-hop music blared out of the state-of-the-art spreakers, the girls dragged you away from Cam, insisting that you 'stop being boring with the boyfriend'.

"You two are always attached at the hip. Leave him for a while, he can fend for himself," Kristen had said.  
Evidently he could.

-**c**-

You watch, somewhat sadly, as your girlfriend is dragged away from you. This party sucks, in your opinion. Everyone's doing the Three D's: Dancing, Drinking or Doing Drugs, and since you've never really been a fan of any, you're left on the sidelines, warm can of root beer in hand, counting down the minutes until you can go home. _Do you think she would notice if I just left?_

"Hey, stranger. I was hoping I'd see you here." A familiar voice cuts through the music, and you blink hard a few times, because you just can't believe your eyes. What is she doing here?

The brunette is a little bit taller than the last time you'd seen her, almost a year ago, but everything else is the same. Her dark hair is still long and curly, and her green eyes are piercing. Somehow, you've managed to underestimate her... _Nikki-ness_ yet again. There's something about that girl that makes all others pale in comparison. Including your girlfriend.

All the feelings that you've been trying to deny for months rise to the surface, and it's almost like no time has passed. You're still at camp, talking behind the boat shed by the lake until late at night. It's almost like the past ten months with Massie never happened.  
You can't deny that you're still in love with Nikki Dalton. You've always been in love with Nikki Dalton.

"So, Cam, any girls in the picture?" Nikki doesn't know about Massie. If you're lucky, Massie will never know about Nikki. You take her hand and a deep breath and lead her upstairs.

-**m**-

Your friends have this theory that you can tell a lot about someone by their bra. Claire, ever the good girl, prefers cutesy patterns to the sexy, lacy lingerie worn by Alicia. Who would be more likely to cheat on a test, hook up with a stranger or just generally be badass? The choice is obvious.

The first thing you see when you flip on the light in Kori Gedman's upstairs media room is a purple bra on the floor. Even though you're freaking out and seeing everything through a panicked haze of this-can't-be-happening, you can't help but notice that the purple bra on the floor is a remarkably nice-girl bra.

Yet the half-naked girl hooking up with your boyfriend of ten months--make that _ex_-boyfriend--is anything but nice. Cam doesn't even try to explain, he just sits there on the sofa looking guilty, like a little kid caught with both hands in the cookie jar. Turning on the sole of your expensive flats, you storm out of the room, down the stairs, out onto the Gedman's front lawn, and into the driver's seat of the Range Rover. Behind the safety of the tinted windows, you fire off a quick text to Alicia. You'll explain everything tomorrow if you have to, but it probably won't be necessary. That girl finds out gossip quicker than Perez Hilton.

--

**MASSIE**: went home. will xplain tmrw. btw, ur bra theory sucks.

--

"Who was that?" Nikki asks.  
"Oh, no one."

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Review?


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